


Snowfall

by halfmortal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmortal/pseuds/halfmortal
Summary: Gendry has a fascination with the snow beyond the wall.





	1. Chapter 1

He had never seen snow before. He had never seen snowflakes fall from the sky or caress his skin. From the boat it looked heavenly, almost welcoming. He tried to keep his curiosity about it at bay. They weren’t here to relish in the snow; they were here on a mission.

  
He was here on a mission.

  
This is what he had been waiting for, to finally prove his worth. He wasn’t just Gendry Waters: fleebottton bastard. He was Gendry son of Robert Baratheon, King Robert Baratheon, and that had to mean something. He was in the presence of The King of the North, another bastard, and that had to mean something.

  
He was in the presence of _Arya’s_ brother.

  
So he had kept quiet, sat at the table, observed and listened. Then, when morning came the seven of them ventured beyond the wall, to the true north. That was what Tormund the wilding had called it.

  
He was the only one to keep his hood off when their journey started, his curiosity getting the better of him. He just wanted to feel the snow on his skin, the fascination with it confused him. The wind was violent and the land was white, everywhere he saw white and barren. It was all very grim, yet there was a part of him he couldn’t control that was excited about being there, about finally being in the thick of things. He smiled, what an idiot he must look like. With his life being in danger like never before, he felt hopeful and free.

  
Someone pulled the hood over his head, startled he turned to see Jon Snow smirk at him. “Snow burns,” he explained, “worse than fire if you ask me.”

  
He nodded back to him, “is this what Winterfell is like?”

  
“No. It’s beautiful.” Jon sighed and Gendry watched the King of the North survey over the land, his mouth set in a straight line. He looks tired Gendry thought.

  
“I know now is not the moment your grace, but I knew your sister. We traveled together, before we met up with the brotherhood she was headed to the wall, to you.”  
They stared at each other for a moment, “Arya. Lady Arya.” He clarified to the King. “we were separated and I…”

  
He couldn’t figure out the right words to say. How could he describe to the King what his sister’s friendship had meant to him? “I’m sorry for your loss…”

  
“My sister is not dead.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“I only just found out too.” Jon smiled, “this is why surviving this is important, I need to see my family again.”

  
Behind them the Hound chuckled, “I knew she was alive. That fierce little wolf can survive anything.”

  
The others nodded in agreement.

  
“Well I am certainly glad my sister made some friends on her journey home. If we survive this, Winterfell has a warm bed for all of you.”

  
A warm bed in Winterfell, that was a prospect Gendry very much looked forward to. He felt his chest swell and warm up even as the wind assaulted the rest of his body. Jon had said the snow in Winterfell was more beautiful. He longed to see it now more than ever, to feel the snow caress his skin, and to see Arya there with a knowing smile, telling him how she was right. He should have followed her North, gone with her to her brother. But, he was here now, closer than ever. Closer to seeing her once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya contemplates her family.

 

She had imagined her return to Winterfell differently. She imagined proud direwolf banners hanging from the great keep, and there they were. She imagined her home bustling with life and soldiers practicing in the court yard, jesting, and praising the Stark name. She imagined Ghost laying lazily on the snow watching the people hurry through the castle, children playing near the great wolf and feeding him bacon when their mothers weren’t watching. Mostly, she imagined how it would be to see Jon again.

Jon Snow would be there grinning at her opening his arms wide and she would run to him and embrace him hard. She would tell him about everything she had done and endured since leaving home and he would tell her how he went from taking the black to becoming King in the North. They would share stories all night long and by time the sun rose the next morning they would be the same as before. Like they were before stags and lions showed up at their door.

But Jon wasn’t there. He was far away, like always. It wasn’t all a loss, however, her sister and brother were there. They were alive and well, all she could have hoped for concerning her remaining family. Once she thought were long gone. They weren’t, the wolves had come again and now they were together again. Except for Jon.

Her reunions with Sansa and Bran were sweet and happy, but nothing compared to what it would have been like with her favorite brother. Although she was truly happy to see them, it was bittersweet as she realized that it wasn’t only her that went through an ordeal. They all did. They all changed. But they were together, and that was what she would whisper to herself before they went to bed.

But soon those whispers stopped and others took hold of her. Names that needed to be dealt with, and a new one in particular that had consumed her since her arrival home. Littlefinger.

He strolled through the halls of Winterfell the same way he did the Red Keep years ago, as if they were his. His manner was calm and worst of all smug. If he wasn’t whispering in the ears of the Northern Lords, then he was whispering in Sansa’s ear. Arya would watch as her sister would lean into Littlefinger with a serious expression considering his words.    

She shouldn’t have said those things to Sansa, but she couldn’t help herself. How could she trust her? The whole of Winterfell treated her like a Queen, but she was not a queen. Jon was the KING. Sansa had said that the Lords were fickle, that she was making sure Jon still had an army when he returned. Arya knew she had ulterior motives. How could she not? Jon was always Arya’s brother, but to Sansa he was always the _lowly bastard half-brother_.

 _She is your sister_ , a small voice whispered, _she is part of your pack_.

A light drizzle of snow began to fall around her. She looked around her. Gods she missed this. The branches of the weirwood tree sheltered her too much from the snow so she stood up from her seat and walked out into the open to feel the snow. She closed her eyes and listened to the it.

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. That was what her father had said once. But if she was being true to herself Arya wasn’t so sure he was right. She had been a lone wolf for quite some time, and though lone, she survived. Being alone she only had to trust one person, one person. Herself.

It was easier that way she realized. This being alone witnessing the snowfall was the only peace she had felt since coming home. Since _leaving_ home. I was better this way. Being a lone wolf. She did not need a pack then, why would she need one now? If Jon wanted to be part of her pack she would allow him, but only because she had to protect him from Littlefinger and Sansa.

It does not matter that they are all wolves. Wolves had teeth and claws too. She was stupid back then, and so was her father. There is no pack, everyone is looking out for themselves. Arya was no longer surprised. Why should she be if history was any indication? The dance of dragons: siblings fighting. The Baratheons fought each other most recently. Cersei’s hatred for her imp brother was no secret either. Why should they be any different?    

            “It’s starting to pick up.” Bran startled her. No one snuck up on her anymore. She was not surprised by anything. Yet, a moment of distraction was all it took for her brother to come wandering around.

            This is why it was better to be alone.

            “I haven’t seen snowfall in a long time.” She responded.

            “That’s all I ever see.”

            Truth be told Arya avoided Bran. He was harder to dissect. He was eerie, his mischievous childhood smile gone.

            _He is part of your pack too_ her thoughts betrayed her.

            “What do you think of Littlefinger?” She asked, masking any curiosity she had about his answer. She wanted to come off aloof.

            “He is an everyman.” Bran said staring at the snow.

            “What is an everyman?”

            “An everyman is a man who is everywhere and every when.”

            Seven hells, she should have walked to her chambers when she had the chance.

            Whether he had noticed her frustration with his answer or not Arya couldn’t say, but Bran continued,

          “Men like him have existed since the dawn of time and will exist long after we are gone and our legacies, triumphs, and failures and that is because the god they worship will never cease to exist.”

          “What god is that?”

          “Power.”

          Arya said nothing. She was mulling over his words. What if Sansa worships this god too?

         “It is a good thing we are together.” Bran actually smiled at her.

        “We may be in the same keep, but we are not together.” Arya couldn’t hide the bitterness from her voice.

        “We’ve all faced some sort of treachery. Perhaps together we can learn to over come it.” Bran said knowingly.

         Arya said nothing.

Had that not been what she always wanted? For her family to be together again, for her pack to be whole again? Too much time had passed the gaps between them were too great.

         “Rest assure Arya, our family is together again. It might take us a bit to know each other again, but we are together.” With that Bran motioned to the guard standing away to come fetch him, and left her to think.

His words should sooth her, but she was quick to dismiss them. There were plenty of instances where she thought she would be with her family again, or even have a family altogether.

The faceless men had none, for they were no one. Her father was murdered in front of her. Her mother and brother were dead minutes before she could reach them. The hound was dead too, and he never treated her the way one treats family. The brotherhood betrayed her.

No, that’s not right. They betrayed Gendry. Gendry who also didn’t want to be her family. Who chose someone else over her. It still hurt. Mayhaps the face she gave him when he said that was the hurt face Sansa had bestowed not too long ago.

So then why would anyone want to be her family, and after all this time why does she still _desire_ family?

 _You’d be my lady_ he had said to her.

Stupid bull.

He could have been here too. He could have traveled with her and the Hound. The nights after the Red wedding were terrible. She could have used someone like Gendry. Someone kind, someone who would lend her his shoulder to cry on. He seemed the type. The hound was little help those nights. They could have trained as faceless men together. He could have been in Winterfell right now in the smithy making weapons for Jon’s army. Perhaps if he were here she would be a different Arya, a softer Arya. Not one who mistrusts her family.

Stupid bull.

It was all his fault. It was her fault too. She was stupid too. It was her fault that Bran’s words left a shimmer of hope within her heart. It was her fault that she felt guilty after saying those things to her sister. It was her fault that she _still_ missed that stupid stubborn bull.

Gods she really was stupid, after all this time she still desired it. Family, a pack of her own. Now she had it. Even that wasn’t enough.

It’s her own fault, that she believed she might see him again. Why not? She was here in Winterfell with her family, watching the pretty snow fall.

The disappointment and sadness she’ll feel when she doesn’t see him again, that will be her own damn fault too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So I had originally intended for this to be a one-shot, yet here we are. If I'm being honest I doubt that I will continue this work after this chapter...but who knows! Anyway, thanks for reading! Also sorry if it was lame.
> 
> Oh shit! One more thing: this happens after Arya and Sansa have their little chat in Sansa's bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya trains for war, while Gendry finishes a new mission

The snow had started to pick up at the end of the day, but that didn’t keep her away from the training grounds. Jon had sent a raven; he was coming home. Finally. She was anxious to see him, and ready to fight with him. That’s why she came to the grounds every evening to train with needle and her catspaw dagger. The evening gave her more opportunity to water dance freely, since most training was done when the sun rose.

There were nights when Sansa and even Bran would join her. Bran would watch from afar, stoic as always while Sansa would practice with her own needle. So far she had made each one of them, including Jon, new cloaks and hoods for winter. Each one adorned with four proud direwolves, two on each shoulder.

Tonight however she was alone. She last saw Bran whispering with Sam Tarly, looking sullener than before. They spoke of Jon and dragon queen and their imminent arrival to Winterfell. Sansa was in her solar pacing. The last few days were a bit hectic. Sansa was busy preparing for the arrival of Jon and his company, she was busy responding to ravens from the Vale and Riverrun, she was busy preparing Winterfell for war, but mostly she was busy with the Northern Lords.

Arya had to admit, her sister had come a long way politically speaking. All those things bored her to death, she didn’t understand them nor did she try. But Sansa, she had a way with words, she was charming, confident, and always kept her head up high. 

Even when they turned their attentions away from Jon and began to shower her with compliments of her beauty, she would remain poised. Lately, it started happening more often than not. Some Northern lord would pay her sweet compliments and then not so subtly pay even higher compliments to their unmarried sons. Sansa was not amused.

Arya became nervous when she started hearing her own name come out of their lips. A warrior wolf they called her, only fit for a true northern lord. Sansa again was not amused, “My sister is preparing for war, as should all your sons. Mayhaps if they impress her on the battlefield then she could have one of her own choosing…however my lords, don’t hold your breath.”

Arya had never smiled so brightly in the throne room. She nodded to her sister as she walked to the very spot she had slit Littlefinger’s throat, the ground still stained red and gave all the lords her best curtsey.

Marriage, how preposterous. Sansa Stark the perfect Lady of Winterfell had no plans to wed anytime soon or even at all, so why would those idiot lords believe that she was willing to? No, she would not marry. Not now not ever. She was not meant to be a Lord’s wife. She told her father as much once, yet he didn’t believe her. She didn’t learn much in King’s Landing, but she did witness miserable ladies wed to miserable lords. It was different for Eddard Stark, he loved his wife and she loved him. The only people Arya will ever love is her family. Anyone else that might have had the chance was gone or dead. She would have no part in such a union. The lords did get something right, she _was_ the Warrior Wolf and those green little northern sons couldn’t handle her. Besides she had her sister’s support and when Jon came back no doubt she would have his too.  

Sansa didn’t tell the lords about Jon bending the knee. “That’s his duty, besides it will be better coming from him.” She said simply. Instead she reassured them about their new guests. How they were all allies now.

“But she is a TARGARYAN!” Many proclaimed.

“A Targaryan helping Starks with a Lannister at her side. My Lords, the war between noble families is over, there is only one war that matters now.” Still there was an air of distrust radiating from them, but they bit their tongue at Sansa’s words. They respected her.

So that left Arya on the training grounds alone. Her dance started slowly, she placed her left foot in front of her right and let needle swing around her body. Each time she would end in the correct position, though this time she was incorporating her dagger in her motions. Like how she managed when sparring against Brienne of Tarth.

The nights were becoming frostier still she persisted to train. She needed to make sure to be ready to fight with Jon against the Night King when the time came.

She relaxed her pose, holding needle straight up the length of her body. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She needed to concentrate on her skill. It was only her and her weapons. Those were the only thing that existed at that moment, that _needed_ to exist. She needed to empty her mind of all distractions. The Night King, Dragons, the army of the dead, all that did not matter at this moment. All that mattered was her and her needle. That was how she would perfect her skill further. So once more she got into position not letting the snow drizzle bother her.

 

***

No matter how far they ventured from the wall, the brittle weather was always at their heels. Truth be told Gendry was beginning to resent the snow. What once enchanted him now aggravated him.

“No use for sour moods,” Beric Dondarrion laughed at him, “soon the whole country will be covered in white.” It was just four of them traveling now: him, Beric, and two wildlings. Tormund remained at Easwatch and Jon Snow left for King’s Landing with the Dragon Queen.

What a waste of time. Gendry was there the day Cersei used wildfire to blow up the great Sept. that day was chaos, the smallfolk were terrified. So when she was crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms all he and everyone else could do was accept it. Accept it and hope that this one might be better than the last. It was never so. It would be a miracle, Gendry thought, if Jon could convince the Queen to join forces.   

It had appeared as though Tyrion Lannister had his own doubts. It made sense, if anyone knew the queen it would be her brother. The hand of the Queen had sent a raven before they returned to Dragonstone hoping to have a few men travel to Winterfell to smooth over their imminent arrivals, or prepare them for the loss of their King. Jon had thought it a good idea, if only to warn his family of how close the threat really was.

In the beginning Gendry was not sure of he believed it. The white walkers and the Night King, perhaps it was just a matter of seeing it. When he _did_ see it he almost prayed to the Gods for it to be a nightmare. For him to be startled back awake in the smithy of King’s Landing, before Eddard Stark came to see him. Hells even before Jon Arryn came to see him.

How different his life might have been, if it was all a dream. He would be making weapons for the crown during the day, sleep soundly in his home at night, maybe even have a girl to keep him warm. Whatever the noblemen did were of no concern to him, he was just a nobody from Fleabottom.

But it wasn’t a dream, King’s Landing was a world away, and wonter was finally here, yet there was no girl to keep him warm. He wasn’t a nobody from Fleabottom, he was the son of a King. He was on yet another mission and on his way to meet other nobles.

Noble blood ran through his veins too, and by some grace or cruelty of the Gods he was now in the thick of it. He promised himself he would make the best of it for as long as he could.  

“For fuck’s sake finally! There it is!” Gromm, the wildling explained.

Gendry prompted his horse up the small hill to where the rest of the group was, and there on top he saw it for the first time, Winterfell.

It was a large stronghold, with thick tall walls and great banners hanging from each tower. It wasn’t as grand as the Red Keep, but it looked mighty he thought. The moon was large and yellow behind the Keep and there were large torches situated on the towers walls of the castle. Winterfell looked peaceful, even in the frigid cold of winter. This was the home of the wolves, Gendry thought and suddenly he felt nervous. As they drew closer to the castle the snow began to fall more rapidly and the wind picked up as well. Gendry swore he would hear it howling.

Like a Direwolf.  

There were few soldiers outside the gates. One of them sounded a horn to alert the inhabitants of new visitors. They were left waiting outside for a couple minutes before the gate began to creak open. They were ushered inside only a few steps when one of the men held their hand up, “wait here, Lady Stark will be down soon.” They took their horses to the stables so they stood in the middle of the courtyard waiting.

Lady Stark. That must be Arya’s sister. She never did speak much of her during their travels, except to proclaim that the _real_ lady in the family was her sister. Gendry asked Arya once what had happened to her sister and she simply said “she might be dead.”

Yet she was not dead. One Stark girl had managed to make it home at least. Gendry wondered how closely Arya’s sister resembled her. Was she also short, with grey colored eyes and dark tangled hair? Did she carry around a sword with her wherever she went? Probably not.

“Good evening, you are Baric Dondarrion?”

“Yes my lady, it is a pleasure.”

The woman speaking with Beric was tall with hair like fire. Her eyes were crystal blue. And her manner was so poised Gendry felt as though he too needed to stand up straighter.

“And your companions are?”

The two wildlings spoke first, then when Lady Stark turned to him Gendry was looking past her, at the small figure walking up behind her.

Arya slowly made her way to the courtyard towards her sister who spoke kindly to the men in front of her. She recognized one. He was the leader of the Brotherhood without Banners, the other two wore wildling clothing, and then the last one…

Impossible.

She didn’t stop when she reached Sansa, her feet wouldn’t let her. Instead she walked right up to him slowly inspecting his face making sure her eyes were not deceiving her. They stood there for a moment in silence with nothing but the snow falling around them, but even the sounds of the weather felt muted.

For the first time in years Stark grey eyes met Baratheon blue.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest chapter I hope you enjoyed it! So my plan at first was to have this be the whole reunion, but it didn't really wok out that way. I'm hoping to update soon, we shall see! Once again thank you for reading, I appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry reunite. Then Arya and Sansa have a chat.

She had walked up to him in trepidation, not really knowing what she was going to do next. That was a new sensation, and she didn’t like it. 

It couldn’t be true. Dozens of reasons popped up into her head, and she sifted through them trying to find the one that made the most sense, that could explain that what was in front of her was not real.

It was a mummer’s trick. 

She was asleep.

Somewhere behind her there was a voice calling her back. It sounded like Sansa, perhaps she was waking her up from a dream. 

It wasn’t him, she had been mistaken. She was sure of it, until he spoke, 

“Arya,” he beamed at her. That same lopsided grin as before, and then Arya knew exactly what her next move would be. She clenched her fist tight, stepped forward, reached up at him and hit him square on the jaw. 

Her sister once again called to her, but the full of her attention was directed at that bull-headed idiot. It was her turn to speak, “that’s for abandoning me!”

“I do apologize my lady,” he had the audacity to snicker, “but as I remember it, I was taken.”

“What have I told you about calling me that!”

“Honestly Arya, I haven’t seen you in ages and that’s how you greet me?”

She pushed him hard enough for him to fall on the snow. “Don’t get smart with me Gendry!” 

“Arya.” He said her name again and then once more, “Arya Stark.” 

The sound of her name coming out of his lips made her squirm. She was uncomfortable, or maybe she was embarrassed because she liked the way it sounded? Her cheeks burned and she was sure he could see the sizzle the snowflakes created when they hit her face. 

“Arya! What is going on?” Sansa’s frustration was obvious by the way her brows furrowed together. 

Her sister’s severe tone was what brought Arya back to her senses. She stepped away from Gendry and turned to her sister barely able to keep her composure. There was a dry lump in her throat and it took momentous effort to speak, “Forgive me Sansa, I am weary. I’m going to my chambers.” She took a couple steps and halted, without turning she called to Sansa, “Please make sure our guests have suitable accommodations.”

“Of course.”

\---

No matter how hard she tried, or how tightly she shut her eyes sleep evaded her. All she could think about was what happened in the courtyard. About who she saw. 

It is not possible she had whispered to herself over and over again like a prayer. 

It wasn’t until she was alone in her rooms that she let the impact of seeing him wash over her. Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she detested it. It had been so long since she last saw him, and she had been so sure that he was long dead because of the Red Woman. Yet he was standing right there, in the courtyard of Winterfell practically gleaming at her with those bright blue eyes. 

There was a soft knock on her door and for the briefest moment Arya felt her heart thunder in her chest. Don’t be ridiculous, she thought- it couldn’t possibly be him. 

“What is it?” She tried to keep her voice as even as possible. 

“Arya it’s me. Can we speak a moment?” Sansa tapped lightly on the door again. 

Arya rose from her bed and opened the door to let her in. Her sister walked over to the edge of her featherbed and sat. Not wanting to be the first one to speak Arya treaded over to the stone fire place and added a couple of logs, enough to illuminate the room, then proceeded to sit on one the padded chairs near the fire. 

“When you told me about what happened to you after father, you mentioned him I believe. The boy with the bull helmet. You said he was a good friend.”

Arya nodded, not looking directly at Sansa. She felt embarrassed, for the first time since her arrival at home and her reunion with her family she was ashamed of her behavior. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell and she had made a spectacle of herself. Sure the courtyard had been fairly empty and she should not have to explain herself to anyone, but she let her emotions get the better of her. It would not happen again; she would make sure of it. 

“He went beyond the wall with Jon. They faced white walkers together.” Sansa continued and once again Arya only acknowledged her sister’s words with a curt nod. “Him and his companions were given rooms by the eastern gate. I thought if they are friends of the King then they should be treated thusly. They will be warm there, and they will break their fast with us in morning in my solar. We can speak more of what happened beyond the wall. Should I let the kitchens bring you something as well?” 

Bless Sansa. Bless her and damn her for being so perceptive about her. “Those sort of meetings are more your fashion really. You can fill me in later, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yes of course. Although I’m sure our new found friends will be disappointed in your absence. Seems as though they you left a great impression on them.”

“I will speak with them another time. If I am being honest I’m not sure what to say to him. Them I mean. I haven’t seen them in quite some time. So much has changed.”

Sansa gave her a courteous smile and motioned to leave. Just before she reached the door however Arya heard her sister snort. Actually snort. “How curious,” the red head began, “that fate would bring Robert Baratheon’s bastard son to our door in our time of need.”

“What are you talking about?” Arya breathed in deeply already anxious to hear her sister’s next words. 

“After your departure in the court yard I had chance to speak to your old friends. Gendry told me about his true parentage.”

“What?”

“Yes, it seems as though the Starks and the Baratheons are fated to fight together once more. You did not know?”

“No I did not. How can this be?” Gendry? Her Gendry? Son of Robert… she remembered now in the forest when the gold cloaks were looking for him. Then when the Red woman took him. When the Brotherhood allowed to take him. She remembers whispers of King’s blood. Could it be true then? Was he truly…this was too much. It did not make any sense. How?

Sansa only shrugged her shoulders and smiled genuinely. “So many things have happened- so many things are happening. Our world seems to be shrinking more and more. Can I leave you with some sisterly advice Arya?”

“If you must,” she whispered.

“Embrace it. You’re here, you’re home with your family. Winter will only get colder and darker, enjoy the last bit of light for however long it lasts.” Sansa came up to her then and gave her small peck on the cheek before departing. 

She didn’t know how long she stood in the room after Sansa had left. She couldn’t help it she felt fidgety and somewhat irritated. She had questions. She would speak to him on the morning. She would get her answers then. This way she had all night to come up with just the right words to say. To practice her speech and school her face. She trained with the faceless men once upon a time. She was a disciplined warrior. She could wait. 

Sod this! 

Moving toward her bed she picked up her boots and began to strap them on. She then reached for her coat and began to tightly tie on the sleeves. The eastern gate Sansa had said. Without a look back at her chambers she headed in that direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn look at this an update! If you’re still reading hope you enjoy it and thank you once again. Oh yeah! HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry finally speak to one another, although it does not go as planned.

When she was younger she very much enjoyed the summer snows. They were light and airy. Many times the sun would shine through and Arya could not help but wonder at the beauty of it all. She heard what people said about the North and all the refineries it lacked unlike the Southern areas of Westeros. Yet looking above at the parting clouds and watching the gentle flakes glaze over her home, she knew then no other part of the world could be so beautiful. Tonight however the snow heaped upon the walls of Winterfell with a fury, almost competing with her own temperament at the moment. She didn’t quite understand why her emotions were in such turmoil and she was not going to stop and dissect it either. Mayhaps it was better if she did not know the answer. One good thing about this night however was how the winds had subsided. The snow fell mercilessly trapping anything in its path with a sheen of white, but the night was quiet. It made the weather look…soft. 

She was trying not to breathe so hard as she made her way down to the eastern gate. Moreover, she needed to focus on her what she was going to say. She was so sure it would come to her as she made her way to him, but her mind was blank. The closer she drew to the hall the less sure she was of herself. There was still time to turn around and go to bed. She could deal with this another time.

 “Come to hit him some more have you?”

Beric’s voice startled her so that she couldn’t keep the small yelp from leaving her body. Beric Dondarrion was hunched over on the ground in front of a door outside of what Arya could surmise was him room. He had a leather pouch attached to his right hand which he he raised to his mouth. Probably ale. “What are you doing out here?” Arya crossed her arms over her chest.

“No one wanted to share a drink with me.” He motioned the pouch to her, offering her some, “for courage then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Perhaps you are here to hit me next then hm? I don’t remember even being acknowledged earlier today.”

“Well as I remember, I don’t think we parted as friends.”

“Come on now then girl, not even a little happy to see me?”

Arya smiled a little, “I’m glad you are not dead Beric. Also, I’m grateful for what you have done with my brother.” 

“Alright, I’ll take it. Well I am certainly glad to see you alive and well lady Arya…or I guess I should say princess?” He grinned at her amused at his own teases.

“Don’t you start. Where’s the rest of your lot then? The Brotherhood and Thoros?”

Arya saw the way Beric deflated further into the ground at the mention of Thoros of Myr. “He died beyond the wall.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She truly was. To her Thoros had always been an odd man, yet one of the easier ones to be around. He had a mischievous manner about him that had calmed Arya back then. Made her feel like all the seriousness around her got slightly lighter. It was a nice feeling.   

“Yes well, what’s done is done. Come now, I know you ain’t here to speak to an old man like me. He’s in there.” He motioned to the door as he attempted to stand. Arya had to hold his right arm and heave him up a little. Once fully standing he swung the door open violently causing it to crash to the stone wall. 

“Visitor!” Beric announced with a glint in his eye. 

Arya walked in the room and watched as Gendry shuffled out of bed once he got a sight of her. 

“I’ll just…take a walk around the grounds. Night then princess.” Beric winked at her as he glided out of the room and shut the door. Arya rolled her eyes.

They stood there for a moment. Silent. Both of them looking anywhere but each other. Gendry scratched the back of his head and began to fidget with the end of his sleeves. Arya only watched stoically taking comfort in the fact that he too was unsure about how to proceed.  

“Arya” he whispered her it, just like he had done in the courtyard. 

Again silence.

“Are you--”

“How are--” 

They both began then halted to let the other speak. Instead more deafening silence took place. Arya let out a breath and spoke again, “Is the room to your liking?”

“Yes of course.”

“That’s good to hear.” Damn this. Sansa was the courteous one, the gentle conversationalist. She had no clue how else to go on.

Gendry smiled at her then, his blue eyes glinting among the light of the fire. “I am happy you made it home my lady.”

“Don’t call me that. But thanks.” She smiled timidly so, “sorry about…hitting you earlier.”

“Barely felt it to be honest.” Gendry chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.  

Arya chuckled nervously too, “yes well, either way that is no way to greet an old friend.”

“Gods Arya, I thought you were dead, for the longest time.”

“Funny. I thought the same. I mean the red woman took you, they bound you, it only made sense. Why did you think I was dead?”

“When I left Dragon Stone, I went back to Fleabottom. I would hear the people talk about the war and the great houses. About what happened to your brother and mother…” he saw her visibly flinch, “Then there was news that the Boltons owned Winterfell and that house Stark was gone.” 

“I guess they were wrong,” she whispered. 

“And I am happier for it.”

She glanced around his room, avoiding his gaze. It was small but cozy she thought. There was a small hearth in the corner, slowly dimming to embers but it kept the room warm enough to sustain a person or two. Beric’s bed had its covers disheveled every which way and his belongings carelessly tossed to the floor. Gendry’s side of the room was neater. His items were placed on a small wooden table by his bed. Then Arya saw it, a hammer resting on the edge of his bed. Arya walked closer to the weapon in order to inspect it, she felt Gendry’s eyes follow her as she did so. He did not say anything, he just watched. The base of the tool was the color of rust, but finely smoothed. The metal was impeccably wrought. The surface was sleek but its edges sharp and intimidating. No doubt he had made this himself. He put a lot of work into it, she could tell. She moved closer to touch it but her hands stopped when she spotted the design carved up into the base of the hammer. A proud stag with lithe horns graced the metal surface. They reached the top of the weapon, their points long and whetted. The stag looked mighty but dangerous. The sight of it was making Arya queasy. She turned that feeling into irritation when she faced him, “So you’re running around calling yourself a Baratheon now?”

“I’m not calling myself anything, I’m just telling the truth.” Unlike her his voice was softer, almost unsure.   

“You are Gendry. What does it matter? Baratheon? Waters?--”

This time his voice rose, “it matters because!...” He closed his eyes for a moment obviously trying to reign in his temper.

Arya waited for him to continue, but he did not. “We are in a war Gendry”

“Yes I am very well aware of that. I saw what was coming for us. For all of us.”

“You stupid bull headed boy. That’s not all of it. Can’t you see how dangerous it is to spewing out your blood ties.”

“I don’t understand,” he began but Arya cut him off.

“The Dragon Queen is coming to Winterfell with Jon. King Robert killed her brother, and took her father’s throne. Can you not comprehend what sort of consequences wait for you if she hears the truth?”

“I’ve met her only briefly, though I doubt it matters where I came from, there is a bigger war to think about. Gods why is this bothering you so much.” 

“Why does it matter to you so much. Robert Baratheon was a drunk and a scoundrel. Who cares if you have his blood. You’re still only his bas---” She stopped talking but it was too late, she could see the hurt flash in Gendry’s eyes.

“His what?” 

When she remained quiet he walked up to her slowly, making Arya take an involuntary step back. “His what?”

Arya didn’t speak.

“If there nothing else _milady_ needed then, I’m off to bed.”

“Gendry I…”

“Sweet dreams _princess._ ” With that he began peel back the covers of his bed and shed layers of his clothing. Not knowing what else to say Arya made her way out of the room, not before slamming his door shit as loud as she could. 

She wasn’t sure what she had envisioned the outcome of their conversation to be but it was not what had transpired. She had not meant it the way he thought. She was only trying to tell him—well she wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to say, but intentionally wounding his pride was not what she wanted. How could he make him understand?

 

*******

 

Making her way back to her rooms Arya was completely lost in thought that she forgot about the couple of steps hidden around the corner. She stumbled, but instead of falling to the floor she felt two hands steady her posture. Looking up to thank the person she froze when she saw Petyr Baelish smirking down at her.

“Be careful young Arya, these halls are not lit very well.” His hands lingered on her shoulder and Arya shifted to release his hold. 

They stared at each other for a moment and Arya’s resolve about the man finally gave way. She hated him. He did not belong here in Winterfell; this man was a parasite. How difficult would it be to sneak into his chamber one night? She could end it quietly, or better yet she could make him suffer. Baelish began to smile at her, the more his lips widened the more Arya wanted o scramble away from him. Was that a smile or a sneer?

“What is it?” She couldn’t hide her annoyance at the man.

“Pardon me my lady, but just now under the light you very much resembled your late aunt. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?”

They had. When she was younger she remembered others comparing her nature to the aunt she never met. Sometimes her appearance as well like her hair, her eyes. Arya could never make sense of it. She was Arya horse face and well Lyanna Stark was known to be a great northern beauty. 

“I cannot recall,” she answered him, face masked in indifference. 

“Well you do, I can only assume as you grow older so will the resemblance. She was quite fetching your aunt, even had Robert Baratheon wrapped around her fingers. What a tragedy that was for us all.”

Fed up with his manner Arya moved around him, “if there is nothing else then I will retire to my chambers.”

“Very well then my lady, sweet dreams.”

The sensation Arya felt when he heard those words made her shiver in disgust. It was not at all what she had felt when Gendry uttered those words. She was sad then, but also made her stomach ache? Maybe the right word was flutter? Gendry was angry at her, but his tone had been gentle when he said that to her. Baelish’s tone was light and one could even say kind. Yet Arya could see beyond his façade. He was laughing at her about something. She was not sure yet, but she would find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, Baelish is still alive, the events from the show have not not happened yet since you know the arrival of Gendry and what not. But have no fear Baelish will have his comeuppance soon enough! 
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I can update soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya have breakfast and then they spar.

He awoke the next morning feeling as irritated as he did when he fell asleep. Truth be told he hardly slept, her words haunted him the whole night. He had been called a bastard before, that was nothing new. The whole of his life that word clung to him just like it did the rest of the Fleabottom boys who only had a mother. To him, back then at least, it was nothing to be ashamed of. Just a fact you almost forgot.

It was resoundingly different now. He was a bastard; he will always be one-but now he was a bastard with noble lineage. When he had first known, really truly known who his father had been there was a spark of hope that ignited with in him. Hope that he wasn’t just a nobody from Fleabottom. Hope that he was meant for more… _worthy_ of more. His present circumstances, however, made the spark weaker. He realized sometime in his sleepless night that no on cared about bastard peasant boys, yet everyone openly disdained noble bastard boys. He felt smaller and those feelings of inadequacy then morphed into anger. He let that anger simmer with in him because he knew who deserved the wrath of it. How dare she! He never thought that word would come out of her mouth let alone take form on her lips.

The hurt he had felt when she had almost said it was quickly replaced by the shock of her audacity. Was not her precious King of a brother a bastard like him? At one point he convinced himself to stomp over to her chambers and call her a hypocrite for the whole castle to hear.

Was it because Ned Stark was a better man and father than his own had ever been? Did that make Jon Snow infinitely a better man than him?

Yes it did.

Jon was a King after all, and he was still only a blacksmith. He was foolish to think that being the bastard of a ridiculed King made him any better and for the first time since Davos came into the smithy to find him in King’s Landing Gendry had doubts about ever leaving it. 

A restless night meant for a restless morning. He tried hard not to fidget around too much with Beric soundly snoring on his own bed. So instead he watched as the morning light snuck its way into the room.

\----

When the first morning bells rang all Gendry wanted to do was sulk back into bed, the rest be damned. That was not going to happen as the night before Sansa Stark had invited him and his companions to break their fast in her solar. The two wildlings Gromm and Lenn declined the offer. Gendry had thought perhaps the stark girl would find offence in their disregard to the invitation, but she had taken it in stride. She had then turned back to Beric and himself and informed them someone would fetch them at the appropriate time. No such declines on their part would be accepted, them being Westerosi men. At the time he didn’t care and in fact had been delighted at the prospect of seeing Arya again. But now he longed for the leisurely rules the free folk abide to.

It was a small breakfast party, consisting of Beric, himself, Sansa Stark, a tall woman introduced to him as Brienne of Tarth, a northling girl by the name of Lyanna Mormont, Samwell Tarly- who Gendry had heard from through Jon and Bran Stark. Arya was no where in sight.

Bran Stark had a youthful face, but aged eyes. That was the only way Gendry could describe the young stark when they had met. He was polite and courteous, but he made no move to make a more intimate acquaintance with the rest of the party. The duration of the meal his eyes were trained on his food but from the corner of his eye Gendry could see that Bran’s attention was to the conversation around the table. Every now and again if something interested Bran enough he would look up and give an opinion or two. 

Samwell Tarly had a cheerier demeanor Gendry noticed. He was also quiet during the breakfast, although unlike Bran he seemed more nervous than uninterested. He ate his food heartedly and when Jon Snow’s name would come up he would avoid looking at the others except for Bran.

Beric payed no mind to anyone really. He finished his meal earlier than everyone else and was grateful to Sansa Stark when she motioned her hand maiden to bring in a second serving.

Gendry himself was seated next to the young girl Lyanna Mormont and the seat to the right of him was vacant. He tried not to let the fact that she was not present deter him from enjoying his meal. Yet there was a smugness he couldn’t shake off, _good_ he had thought. Let her avoid me at least she knows she was in the wrong.

“Ey boy!” He was ripped away from his thoughts as he felt a piece of bacon hit his face and Beric smiling cheekily at him, “the lady asked you a question.”

Gendry turned to Sansa Stark feeling heat rise up on his neck from embarrassment, “pardon my lady I did not hear you.”

“I was just enquiring about your rooms and apologizing for the cramped space. The winter is getting colder, many a folk are seeking shelter within this keep and there are many more to come.”

“Do not trouble yourself my lady. The room is better than I have ever had I am grateful.”

“Of course,” Sansa gave him a polite smile, “I am glad both of you are in comfort.”

“Did you see the Night King as well then?” Lyanna Mormont was looking at him wearily. 

“I did not and the longer I don’t have to see him the better truth be told.” He gave her a playful wink.

Lyanna’s cheeks took a rosy tint, “What about the dragons then, have you seen them?”

“Yes I have my lady and what a sight they are. Beric here rode one.”

“That I did,” Beric chimed in, “and I woulda enjoyed it to were it not for the circumstances.” 

“Did Jon ride a dragon?” This time it was Sansa who spoke.

“Can’t say that he did my Lady,” Beric answered.

“Certainly the white walkers are no match for us if we have three dragons on our side.” Samwell Tarly voice was timid but sure. 

“That’s what I thought as well,” Gendry began, “but now we have two.” 

“Two?” Sansa Stark looked between the two men, “what has happened?”

“Forgive me my lady, I do not want to sour the meal and it was our intention to let you and of course the rest of the court made aware of the situation, alas young Gendry here could not contain himself I see.” Beric raised his eyebrows at Gendry.

“Forgive me as well,” Gendry began, “Beric is right, I did not mean to ruin the morning.”

“I guarantee you my morning is not ruined Gendry Waters. If both of you want to discuss these matters in front of court so be it, but at least have the courtesy to expand on your statements to better understand them.” Sansa placed her hands on her lap and waited for one of them to speak up.

“It was the Night King.” Bran’s voice startled everyone at the table. “He managed to kill one of the dragons.” The levity in Bran’s voice left no room for argument.

“How is that possible?” Brienne of Tarth asked. 

When Beric nor Gendry answered Bran spoke out once more, “As winter covers Westeros the Night King becomes more formidable.”

Gendry could not think of anything to say that would lighten the mood after that, though it did not matter. The door to the solar swung open and on the other side stood Arya Stark. She seemed to look everywhere except him. 

“You’re late.” Sansa waved her over to the empty chair next to him, and Gendry was sure everyone could hear his heart pounding out of his chest.

Arya hesitated for a moment before walking over to the round table and taking her seat next to him. She managed to swivel her chair closer to Beric and Gendry’s anger began to simmer once more. Was she _that_ repulsed by him? The servants brought her a plate of food and she began to eat fast and full, perhaps to catch up to everyone else at the table who were almost done with their meals, though Gendry doubted it. She ate hunched over with one hand placed palmed down on the table and she looked absolutely wolfish. Like the predator who had finally caught a meal after weeks without one. It was a habit then, Gendry thought. Something she must have needed to do while she was roaming gods know where these past years. 

She looked up from her food and looked around the table, “don’t stop talking on my account then,” she said with a full mouth and proceeded to eat more.

“We were actually talking about dragons,” it was Bran who regaled the information and Gendry was amused by the way Arya perked up with a glint in her eyes.

“Well. Then in that case don’t stop at all, what about them?”

“Apparently the Night King killed one of them,” Sansa began, “and Beric rode one.”

“Really! How was that then?” Arya almost smiled when she looked at Beric and Gendry realized that was the closest she had looked to the small wild girl he had traveled with on the King’s Road.

“I was a bit out of sorts when it happened. Didn’t think too much of it at the moment, but I remember feeling the warmth of it’s body. S’pose it was cause it had spit fire not too long before.”

“I’ve read that there is nothing hotter than dragon fire.” Arya proclaimed.

“I reckon that’s true then.” Beric smiled back at her.

Arya’s fascination with the dragons only brought back more memories of the young girl Gendry first met. The one who was steadfast and stubborn about making it home. Back to her family. Even though a lot of her kin was gone, Gendry was glad to know that Arya Stark did indeed make it home.

He watched as Arya and Beric had an animated conversation about the dragons, and about how her own direwolf was named after a dragon princess. Gendry was sure that she did not realize how passionate she became whilst talking, even with everyone else in the room. At the mention of direwolves Lyanna Mormont perked up and asked questions about the beasts. Here all the Starks were ready to supply answers about them. How they protected them, how large they became, how intelligent the creatures were.

“I’ve seen em myself,” Beric announced, “headed north from the Riverlands I saw a whole large pack of them. We were lucky they weren’t hunting.”

“Did you see them as well Gendry?” Sansa asked. “When you traveled with the brotherhood?”

“I did not. Davos found me back in King’s Landing, I didn’t travel much with the brotherhood.”

“Yes well that was a shame on our part lad.” Beric said apologetically then looked at Arya, “we lost Gendry and lady Arya around the same time truth be told.”

“That was when you went off with Sandor Clegane?” Sansa asked

Arya scoffed, “more like taken. Although it wasn’t too bad by the end of it.”

Gendry felt a rush of guilt, if he had listened to her in the first place and gone to Riverrun with her, the Hound wouldn’t have taken her. He wouldn’t have been sold off to that awful red witch. He and Arya could have been traveling together the whole time.

“Was that when you were found out as a girl then? When the Hound took you?” Sana asked.

Arya glanced at him briefly before answering, “not exactly.”

“She did not bother with it then.” Bran spoke plainly, she had been found out sooner.

It should have unnerved Gendry the way Bran Stark spoke about the a past he was not a part of, but he as too focused too see what Arya would respond to that. She did not say a word however. Instead she glared at her brother.

He wasn’t the only one waiting for her to speak up. Gendry watched as she looked around the table and once again avoided his gaze.

“It was only at the beginning when I pretended. I thought I had everyone fooled…”

“Not me.” Gendry couldn’t help the smugness of his tone as he interrupted her.

Finally, she made eye contact with him. Gendry felt like he wanted to sigh in relief, her eyes were stormy and unfaltering. She did not look upset at his intrusion, nor did she seem any interested in him to begin with. Gendry was just grateful she acknowledged him at all. “When did you find out?” She asked. 

“I knew the whole time of course.” He proclaimed with a smirk and watched as Arya’s eyes softened and her lips pursed slightly. He was positive that she had held back a smile.

There- in the brief moment where their eyes were locked, they did not notice how all other eyes on the table had watched their interaction. Beric simply chuckled into his cup. Sansa stark watched curiously, while the little northling girl rolled her eyes. Brienne was just as amused as Beric and Sam Tarly was slightly confused. Bran was the only one who looked blasé about the whole thing. 

The moment was fleeting and Arya looked at her food once again, and for the rest of the meal concerning him, her disposition became frostier than the weather. If anyone else had noticed they did not say. When Sansa Stark dismissed everyone Gendry was the first to leave. Having been thoroughly disheartened by her behavior he decided he needed to vent his emotions physically.  

 

*******

Arya was the last one to leave the table, she wanted to give herself and Gendry as much space as possible. Her presence in the solar was a last minute impulse, she had decided the previous night that she would not attend. The embarrassment and shame mixed with her pride didn’t allow her to face him so soon. But as the morning carried on she felt like a prisoner in her own chambers.

She was Arya Stark of Winterfell, she had no reason to cower in her own home. She was a survivor, faceless man, warrior. So what if they had a spat? She was trying to make a point to him, one he could not comprehend. If he truly wished to be part of this this ridiculous world with titles and royalty, he needed to learn how to act accordingly. She couldn’t help him in that matter, that was something her sister would know. The more she thought about it the more she had realized that was what she feared most. They were no longer the same lost children wandering the King’s Road. They had missed the part where they grew together. Now against all odds the gods had brought them together again and the Arya Stark she was now began to collide with the Arry she was back then.

Before he arrived, she had started to become more comfortable around her home again. She gained the respect of the Northerners not only as a lady and princess but as a fighter as well. She was the Stark who had seen the Titan of Bravos, who journeyed throughout Westeros. And to those she knew more intimately, she was the stark who avenged her mother and brother. But Gendry did not know all that and Arya was afraid what he would think of her once he found out. Would he be disgusted by her? Afraid of her, like Sansa was when they first reunited.

She was afraid for herself too. She had spent so long figuring out who she was now, that his presence threatened that. She no longer hit people on impulse or lashed out she was a creature of strategy, but Gendry derailed that every moment they were in the same room. Had the others taken notice? She could not let them, she couldn’t morph back because that Arya was weak and stupid. Filled with childish fantasies.

“See you for supper then?” Sansa called out to her as she left the room.

“Sure.” She moved quickly out of the solar and was headed back to her quarters when Lord Baelish passed her in the hall. He gave her a toothy smile, and her breakfast threatened to spill out at the sight of it.

\----

Once Baelish was out of sight Arya decided to double back, she had been spying on him most chances she got. He wasn’t alone very often and the company he sought out the most was with Sansa much to Arya’s chagrin. She hardly listened to the conversations that were held between the two since most times they were out in the open. The two of them would walk together in the courtyard or the open halls of Winterfell, seen by many residents but the conversations were intimate enough that no one heard anything.

This was an opportunity for Arya, she hated to admit it, but she was very curious as to the relationship between Little Finger and her sister.  Sansa had told her a lot of what happened to her when they were separated in the day of their father’s execution. Although Arya knew that she had kept information to herself mush like she did too. They both weren’t ready to share everything.

Arya stood as close as she could to the door which was still open. Sansa’s private room and solar were connected in the same wing of Winterfell. There was one entrance to them and unless Sansa specified all guards stayed outside the main doors. She leaned against the stone wall and inched her head forward paying close attention to their conversation. 

“…and you think it wise to leave the Vale so sparse of its own men?” It was Littlefinger’s voice she heard first. 

“In Jon’s letter he has assured that the country is safe from the Lannisters.”

“For now.”

“Lord Baelish if you do not want to the perhaps…”

“Consider it done my dearest. Was that it then?”

“Why? Do you think there is more?”

There was a lull in the conversation before Littlefinger spoke once more, “How went your little meeting?”

“That’s not what you want to ask me.”

Arya felt queasy with the easiness of their manners. They spoke like they were life long chums.

“Alright,” began Baelish, “can’t blame me for being hurt. I thought at least I would be informed of it. I am disspointed.”

“Lord Baelish,” Sansa started more sternly, “these are _Jon’s_ friends. If you had been there they would not have been so open to conversation.”

“Very clever Sansa.” He whispered it to her like some sort of endearment.

“We can speak about what was said later, I have duties to attend to.”

Arya snuck her way out before they realized she was there. She didn’t know what to expect from their interaction but didn’t fancy what she heard at all. What was Sansa playing at? Did she really trust Littlefinger? It did not escape Arya’s notice that her sister had changed. She was still very much a lady, but now she held a wisdom Arya did not possess. About ruling, leading…plotting. It reminded her of the nobles of King’s Landing and left a sour taste in her mouth.

\----

Her plan had been to find Brienne of Tarth and release all her frustrations with needle. Surprisingly the weather had calmed and while there was a fresh layer of snow covering Winterfell the skies were clear and the winds barely a whisper. As she drew closer to the courtyard she could hear the commotion. She was on the balcony over looking the grounds. The very one her mother and father used to stand on when they overlooked their children playing war and hitting each other with wooden swords. Except for Sansa of course. She would sit quietly and dutifully on the side with a needle and point on her hand just as a lady should.

Brienne was already there. If she had felt Arya’s presence she did not say for her attention was solely on the courtyard and Arya knew why. There was a circle of men gathered there and in the middle was Gendry and some other poor sap dueling. While the other soldier carried a sword, Gendry had his hammer. His opponent was a Northerner his tunic and sword made of the best fur for winter, thanks to Sansa no doubt. His jerkin sported the sigil of House Hornwood, the head of a moose on an orange field. Gendry on the other hand wore a sleepless tunic, whose brown leather was softening. He had no furs and his breeches were obviously southern made. The soldier was a green boy; his forms were wavering with each swing Gendry made. For one second the boy managed to the clash his weapon against the groove of Gendry’s steel. A mistake on his part, what he had seen as an advantage turned sour when Gendry gave him a swift kick in the abdomen. The crowd around them cheered, some even going as far to clasping Gendry on the shoulder.

Arya couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride go through her. Any question as to why was pushed down deep into her subconscious. She was taken back to Harenhall when Gendry had a sword of his own forging on his hand, swinging it around much like his opponent had today. Arya remembered chastising him not standing correctly, but also secretly admiring his strength. Was it just his strength? It had been his physic, a tiny voice whispered to her. She might not have admitted it back then; she was not damsel who was easily distracted by the ripple of a strong arm… _he’s strong,_ is what she had thought. Now, looking at him all she thought was _he’s gotten stronger._

Once the cheers subsided another opponent stepped forward. This time it was not a young inexperienced boy. It was a soldier from the Vale, he was older than Gendry and his stance was one of a man who had seen many a battle. Both men drew their weapons and began their dance.

“Give em hell Gendry!” One of the wildlings that had traveled with him shouted in support. Arya kept the longing to also shout for him at bay.

Hammer and sword clashed together as the men circled each other. Gendry made an attempt to swing his hammer underhand as to catch the soldier off guard but the man had anticipated his move and quickly raised his sword and trapped the hammer underneath it. It made a clink as it dug into the muddy ground, before Gendry could yank it out the other man had his sword at the base of his neck.

“Do you yield boy?”

“Yeah, I do.” Gendry grumbled. 

The soldier then held his hand out and the two shook hands. “Alright you sorry sods, stop starin’ and pick up a sword!” The Vale soldier urged the rest of the crowd. One by one each paired off and soon began to train. Arya watched as Gendry went off toward the smithy, done with the sparring.

She didn’t know how long she had been staring at the door of the smithy or that she was not the only one who was also staring at it. beside her Brienne of Tarth had also been entranced by Gendry Waters.

“He looks very much like a Baratheon.” Brienne spoke quietly mostly to herself, but it was enough to break the spell Arya had been in.

She looked up at the blond woman, “what do you know about that?”

Brienne looked confused for a moment before responding. “Only what Lady Sansa has told me.”

“Do all of you think it wise to casually call him a Baratheon when there is a Targaryen getting closer.” Arya is visibly annoyed. She didn’t mean to sound crass toward Brienne, but she could not help think about the ridiculousness of everyone around her. Their utter lack of decorum when it came to such a delicate matter. Granted Arya was never intrigued by political notions or the classifications of others, but it irked her how Gendry’s parentage was a subject to discuss.

“I suppose I had not thought of that mayhaps it is something to discuss with your sister,” answered Brienne earnestly.

“Thank you Brienne I think you are right.” Arya began to make her way back into the corridors that lead inside the keep. There was much that was needed to be discussed with the Lady of Winterfell. Although as she began to climb up the winding stairwell she paused for a moment. There was something else she needed to do first. Without over thinking it she went down the stairwell and toward courtyard once more. The men were still exercising their skill, too focused to see Lady Arya walk past them. She walked hurriedly past them, set off in trepidation toward the smithy.    

She hesitated once she arrived at its doors. But she would not be ruled by fear, she was Arya of House Stark after all and winter had arrived, wolves were not afraid in their element.

It must have been the creak of the door because Gendry was already looking at her when she entered as if he had been waiting for her all along. They stared at each other for a moment before he went back to his work, the room filled with the sound of metal vibrating off each other on stone.

“Was there something I could do for m’lady?” He didn’t even bother looking at her again.

Arya sighed knowing the idiot was not going to make it easier on her. “Gendry, I wanted to apologize,” she paused but he still kept hitting the steel, and not looking at her, “for last night that is. I wanted to make amends.”

“No amends needed m’lday.”

“You must know I did not mean it that way, I’ve never cared about that. It did not come out the way I intended. Please.” 

He looked at her this time, the hurt evident in his eyes, “it’s fine Arya really. I know what I am. Whether you say it or not, someone else will.”

“Who gives two shits what someone else says Gendry. I am talking about me. Arya. I never thought I’d see you again. But you are here in Winterfell, alive and well. War is coming for us all, forgive me.”

Gendry scratches the back of his head, his sword-in-progress forgotten. “Will you forgive me as well then?”

“No. That is…you don’t have anything to apologize for. Truly.”

Gendry took a step toward her, looking her over and considering her words. Arya felt nervous all of a sudden. Nervous that he would never forgive her, nervous that he would not want her as a friend any longer. She wouldn’t blame him if he decided that, she wasn’t the same Arya he left with the brotherhood and of he couldn’t accept that then there was no reason to pursue anything further. Yet, the mere thought of loosing Gendry made her heart ache. She’d rather go back to thinking he was dead than knowing he was alive and wanted nothing to do with her.

“of course I forgive you,” he said in a serious tone, “my only condition is now I am allowed to call you ‘my lady’ whenever I want.” With the end of that he was grinning wryly at her.

Arya couldn’t help but to smile back at him, “is that really your condition? Wasted opportunity if you ask me.”

“Oh? Did my lady have something better in mind?”

Arya could feel her cheeks take a rosy tint and was grateful for the dull light provided inside the smithy. Gendry inched closer to her, waiting for her response. In order to avoid the embarrassment of seeing her blush Arya began to walk too, circling around him. He was near the door and she near his work area, when she saw his hammer, “well how about a sparring partner?”

Gendry’s eyebrows shot up, obviously intrigued with the notion. “Alright, I agree.”

Arya’s heart leaped in her chest.

“Choose your weapon then.” Gendry placed his hands on his hips.

“What? Here? Now!” Arya wasn’t sure if the jolt that passed through her body was shock or excitement.

“You any good with that thing?” Gendry motioned to her hip where needle was always strapped into.

“No,” Arya held her head higher, “I’m great.”

“Same one you’ve had since the King’s road?”

“Of course.” Instantly needle was taken out of it’s sheath and into her firm grip. She took her stance and began to show off some of her favorite water dancing forms. Gendry watched her silently, and Arya was pleased to see that his smile never faltered.

She thought he would go for his hammer to begin the spar, instead he continued watching her. placing needle back in its place she walked over to his weapon. She feels his gaze on her as she traces the stag on the top of the handle, “I’m not sure my needle will be a match for your hammer though.”

“I think so,” he moved closer behind her, “it’s smaller, lighter, and your quicker.” He was close enough to reach for his war hammer. Arya chastised herself for the involuntary jolt that went through her when their fingers brushed against one another. Still she couldn’t help but be flattered by his comment.

She waits a moment while he backed away before smiling and turning towards him, “Aye but it would only take one hard swing to the head with that.”

Lifting his hammer Gendry offers it to her. Once it was tightly wound within her fingers he released but it quickly it fell to the ground with a hard thump.

“Seven hells how do you lift this!”

“Practice” He laughs and reaches for it, lifting it with ease and putting it to the side of him. Arya can’t help but to roll her eyes at him.

Once more she reaches for, but this time with two arms, she found that she could lift it slightly easier that way. “I think this is heavier than me.”

“I’m flattered you find me so strong my lady.” He teases her and Arya is taken back, but this time to Acorn Hall where he mocked her yet complimented her on her dress.Reaching for the hammer, their hands slide against one another Gendry places against one of the tables with his tools. Arya watched him curiously as he we to the wall to grab a sword. “Alright then, teach me something?”

“Well first of all one must stand side face.” Arya assumes the position 

“Right. Can’t forget that.”

Arya smiles and lunges forward. She is impressed that he could block so many of her advances. When she glides her needle lower on purpose he takes the chance to strike, but Arya was ready for him. She had a notion that he would treat the sword like a hammer and he did. Before his weapon reached behind his head, Arya guides her weapon to the side of his ribcage and deposits just enough pressure for him to feel it and make him stop. “I win.” She held her head up triumphantly. 

“Do you?” He had the nerve to chuckle. The distraction of the sound of his laughter and her confusion why he would question her victory Arya is surprised when his hand went straight for her ribs in order to tickle her.

Not anticipating that move Arya’s sword plopped to the ground and that is when his other hand came around to her other side. She hadn’t been tickled since…well she couldn’t remember, probably her mother had been the one in an era before King Robert intruded their home. She can’t think of much except the feeling of his hands on her, the bursts of panic and joy that come with a tickle fit. She’s laughing hard, she can’t control and she does not want to. She can hear him laughing too, but it isn’t fair she thinks, she should retaliate. Trying to aim for his own ribcage Arya stumbles forward, but Gendry catches her arm trapping her even further. They fall awkwardly to the ground and Arya seizes her opportunity. Kneeing him just enough so the grip on her hand loosened she aims for his underarms. He was right, she was quick. When he rolled over in an attempt to escape she heaved herself on top of him to this time trying to reach his neck. Now she was the one laughing at him while he tried half heartedly to get away from her.

When the mid day bells rang they were both laughing and gasping simultaneously side by side on the ground of the dirty smithy. Their weapons elsewhere.

Gendry stood first and offered his hand to help her stand which Arya accepted. He pulled a little too hard and she was lifter off the ground and into his personal space.

“So,” she began-catching her breath- “same time tomorrow then sparring partner?” 

“Whatever my lady wants.” He smiled. She smiled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END NOTES—well its been quite some time and for that I am sorry, I had about half of this chapter written and thought maybe to just publish it like that but I was determined to finish the whole way through. Anyway I am TRYING to get better about my time management with writing so of anyone out there is still remotely interested in this story bear with me! Hope you liked it!
> 
> On another side note, obviously this story follows the cannon of the television series but I couldn’t help myself to also follow along some plot points of the books as well, such as Acorn hall which sadly never saw the light of day on screen! So yes this is 95% television with a dash here and there of asoiaf, it wont get too convoluted though!

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic EVER. Not the most exciting or romantic, just something I had to write hope you enjoyed it!


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